


I love you, I love you, cried the Erlking

by kangeiko



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: Dark, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-05-04
Updated: 2005-05-04
Packaged: 2017-10-08 06:33:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/73710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kangeiko/pseuds/kangeiko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Once there were two Kings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I love you, I love you, cried the Erlking

  
Once there were two Kings.

The Old King sat in his Golden Tower and his people were far from him and frightened. His courtiers sought to appease him and brought him words he wanted to hear.

The Dark Lord, a King in all but name, lies in wait in the shadows of rumour. His disciples wove new shadows from old deceit and brought him gifts: flesh, and bone, and blood.

It is said – let it not be so, let those listening make it never be so – that the Dark Lord would not die. It is said that he dwells in the forest to the East, cleaves children from their parents and pours honeyed poison words into their hearts.

It is said – let it not be so, let those listening make it never be so – that the Dark Lord sings songs to enchant his followers. You do not hear them with your ears or your head, and should you try, you will hear nothing.

The frightened people ran to their Old King, beat upon the doors to his Golden Tower and cries of the love of the Dark Lord. It is Him, they cried, it is He that loves us and sings to us. Make it not so!

Said the Old King to the frightened people –

It is nothing,  
It is the wind,  
It is the ground beneath our feet,  
It is the song of frightened birds.  
It is nothing,  
Nothing,  
Nothing,  
There is nothing to fear.

Should he take you, it is said – let it not be so, let it those listening make it never be so – that the Dark Lord pours honey in his cakes and bids you sip sweet wine at his table. His followers dance and sing and rejoice, for his time is at hand.

Said the Old King to the frightened people –

It is nothing,  
The child is merely frightened,  
It is nothing but the birds above and the ground below.  
It is nothing,  
Nothing,  
Nothing,  
There is nothing to fear.

The Dark Lord reached for the child he wanted, but his hands slipped. The horse was wild and unruly and could not bear to let his burden fall. The child held fast to his mane and did not fall. It is said – let it not be so, let those listening make it never be so – that the Dark Lord took a child. It is said that it is the wrong child, cold in the cradle and in the grave.

Said the Old King to the frightened people –

It is nothing,  
The child was lost to spirits,  
Lock your doors and do not let the boy inside,  
Turn your backs to the Boy Who Lived,  
Lest he tempt those spirits into your home.  
It is nothing,  
Nothing,  
Nothing,  
There is nothing to fear.

There once was a time when the Dark Lord could choose a child at will and it would sleep in his embrace. He did not need to chase the horse or its riders; he did not need to heed the fear of the people. There once was a time the Dark Lord chose a boy.

That boy ran away.

Said the Old King to the frightened people –

It is nothing,  
Some changeling child, perhaps,  
The sheds of snakeskin and nothing more.  
It is nothing,  
Nothing,  
Nothing,  
There is nothing to fear.

The boy is grown now, wary of where he treads. He bids all children dream dark dreams to startle them awake and keep them safe from the Dark Lord's embrace. He wears a Mark on his arm, where the Dark Lord kissed his flesh.

Said the Old King to the frightened people –

It is nothing,  
Most certainly a changeling,  
Do not listen to him or his dark tales,  
There is no Dark Lord,  
It is nothing,  
Nothing,  
Nothing,  
There is nothing to fear.

It is said – let it not be so, let those listening make it never be so! – that firstborn sons were culled one night; that the Dark Lord took to him new children, for to ease his thirst. He does not drink; he does not sing; he does not laugh.

This night, he will ride out alone, searching for the Boy Who Lived and the one that got away.

Hide your children well. Listen not to the Old King who walks with eyes closed into the forest. Ride fast and hug your child to your chest; close up your ears; listen not to the song for, in the morning, your child may sleep in the Dark Lord's embrace.

Let it not be so, let those listening make it never be so!

*

fin


End file.
